Beautiful Jealousy
by Without-A-Muse
Summary: Booth has a small problem with jealousy when it comes to Bones. Even though, you know, she really isn't his to have in the first place. Or...is she? Could be part two to my previous fic, "Liar, Liar".


_**A/N**_: _Again, thanks to my Beta from Livejournal, Sydney, also known as laeliamouse. I have no idea what I would do without you. And to Khy for the idea...well...kind of . Like I said, this could be a second part to Liar, Liar, however I didn't put it under there as a second chapter because it also stands alone and as I didn't plan on a second part for that piece, figured it would be better to put as a stand alone. Hope you enjoy and comments are 3! _

-W-A-M

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His jaw clenches as he sees eyes flashing in interest, eyes watching her face, not the data she's presenting

His jaw clenches as he sees eyes flashing in interest, eyes watching her face, not the data she's presenting. He knows she doesn't notice, but don't those men know she's as good as taken?

(He makes a mental note to never let her hear him say that.)

Bones has never been one to see how the world sees her (well, the way they see her before she opens her mouth to spill out long words and complicated sentences). She doesn't see how men see her: attractive, sexy, her eyes (damn, they undo him most of all), slim fingers.

Then again, as he watches them wrap up whatever they were supposed to be talking about, if she doesn't see what men say with their eyes, what their voices are saying, double meanings in simple phrases that she'll never get; as long as she stays too smart and clueless, he knows he'll be the one that gets to hold her at night.

Or so he hopes.

It's been more than four years and still not a bite of pie has crossed her lips.

"C'mon Bones. You have to try," he tells her, fork in between them, dangling from his fingers.

"You know I don't like my fruit cooked," she tells him, a smile peeking at him from over the rim of a coffee cup.

"Apple pie. One bite. How can you resist?" he asks, his eyes in puppy dog form, fork still dangling between them, slowly making its way closer to her.

"Cooked fruit," she reminds him, taking a sip of coffee.

Sighing, he gives up...again, but with a promise, "One day, Temperance Brennan, you will taste apple pie and will never know what hit you," he tells her, the last bite making its way past his lips.

A slightly confused look covers her face, "Why would I be hit with something if I ate apple pie?" she asks.

He shakes his head and tells her, "It's a figure of speech, Bones," just as the bells over the diner's door ring.

Bones surprises him by turning around to look at the door. Even more by standing up, a smile lighting up her face. Suddenly he feels his jaw clench like it does when that smile's directed at any guy who's not him. And this is definitely a good time for good Ol' Jealousy to make an appearance. Most guys he's jealous of simply because they're with Bones and he isn't, or that smile. That damned look.

However, this guy is definitely someone to keep an eye on. He has to admit (grudgingly) that he might be close to losing in on appearance with this guy.

The thought that Bones usually never takes things on looks (usually doesn't) comforts him, a little.

"Booth, this is Dr. James Knight. He's also an anthropologist. He'll be at the Jeffersonian for a while. Cam asked him to come work for a few months," she tells him, excitement floating off of her in waves.

Dr. Knight extends a hand and says, "Pleased to meet you. Temperance has told me lots about you," he tells Booth, as he looks at Bones.

Somehow, he manages, in a (fairly) polite tone, "Oh? I can't say the same," he tells the good doctor, now looking at Bones as well.

As she's asking Dr. Knight to sit down, her eyes are telling him to watch out, and he's wondering why.

The end of the day has finally decided to make an appearance, but he's still waiting in her office for her to stop in the middle of something, which he knows is only a wish that will never come true.

From her computer, she brings him out of a half-asleep state by saying, "You didn't have to be so cold to James today," as her eyes stay glued to the computer screen.

"What? I was nice to the guy. Even if the only thing he seemed to be interested in was staring at your ass," he tells her, laying back down on the couch.

"Dr. Knight is a very professional man," she tells him, the chair swivelling around from the computer.

He rolls his eyes snorting, "Okay Bones. See what you want. But he is definitely planning on making a move," he tells her as he pulls the blankets up.

"He has a girlfriend," she tells him, an eyebrow cocked, her face serious.

"Since when has that stopped anybody?" he asks, and then sleepily, "Are you almost finished Bones?"

He doesn't see her smile, but hears the keyboard typing a few more moments, then it quits. The chair rolls, and finally, finally, her feet tap across the floor.

"Finished Babe?" as she sits on the side of the couch.

"Yes, I am," she tells him, smiling at the 'Babe' comment, and she leans forward, touching her lips against his.

He's expected her to be the one to pull away after a moment, however, as always, she's surprised him. He groans against her mouth, his tongue touching hers, for just a moment, her hand resting lightly on his chest, the other one cradling against the side of his face, creeping into his hair line. She smiles when she hears and pulls away just a sliver.

"You know," he tells her, his cheeky smile lifting his tired face, "I'd be content to sleep on the couch," his hands on her waist, suggesting.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "However, I am not."

Sighing, he sits up and scrubs a hand across his face, "Okay, let's go," he tells her, standing up, taking her hand in his own and pulling her up.

They're parked in front of her house and his eyes are closing rapidly.

"You can come in you know," she tells him, smiling, her lips once again laying close to his.

He looks down into those blue eyes and smiles, "I can, can I?"

She laughs and tells him, "You can," and he stumbles sleepily out of the car after her.

Dr. James Knight has been the coffee guy (for Bones, at least) for weeks. He's (Booth that is) been left holding an extra cup as Bones blows steam off the top of hers and smiles away from him.

Angela's always there (because this is her pet project, Booth and Brennan) and she's telling him he has to go for her, make her realize what she has, what they are.

He just shakes his head and hands her the steaming cup.

She's staying later at the lab and he leaves earlier (and Angela and Hodgins are watching as they walk separate ways).

She phones him one night and he answers (slightly coldly, he admits), "Yes?"

"It's Brennan."

"I know," he tells her, watching the muted basketball game.

"Are you up for food?" she asks and he can hear her computer in the background, the keyboard keys still moving.

"Still working?" he observes.

"I'm almost finished. So, food?"

"I don't know," he's hesitating, not knowing where they stand, what they are, and he doesn't want to be left hurt and vulnerable...again.

"Why not?" and she's actually confused. He chuckles. Only Bones.

"What about Knight?" he asks, trying to keep Mr. Jealousy out of his tone (she wasn't even his to begin with).

She laughs, "He's out with his girlfriend tonight. She finally convinced him he needed a night off. I decided I should do the same," she tells him, and he's smiling.

"My place?" he volunteers.

But she disagrees and says, "I'll pick you up. I've got an idea."

He's waiting and she drives up. Chinese boxes are already in the front and he has to ask, "What's the occasion?"

She just smiles and he buckles up. Then the past few weeks of no phone calls and no coffee fade away as she leans in, and he's trying to resist the urge to drag her the twelve feet to his house.

"I miss you," he hears her say and he sits for a moment, a stunned look plastered on his face.

She laughs and it snaps him back, "Does that really surprise you?" she asks as they stop at a red light.

"It shouldn't?"

She shrugs and smiles and he smiles, though he knows she won't see it as the light turns green.

Fifteen minutes later and they're parked. He's wondering what's going on and he turns to ask.

"So, what are we doing here?" he asks, the smell of Chinese sitting in the car, the sky spilled black ink, Christmas light stars reflecting on the small body of water he can just barely make out.

He knows this isn't Bones. She doesn't do romance. Well, in her own way, yes, however, this is his way. He does things like this, not Bones.

As if reading his mind (and he doubts nothing at this point) she smiles and tells him, "It's not my idea," and then hops out of the car.

He watches her figure (that enchanting figure of hers) go around and it takes him a moment to follow suite and hop out.

She hears the door and calls out, "Grab the food," as the trunk pops up and blocks her from view.

He does as told and five minutes later they're settled on the blanket she's brought, a few scattered candles for a little extra light, and the still-warm Chinese between the two of them.

"So, whose idea was this?" he asks, gesturing with his chopsticks.

"Angela's," she tells him before taking a drink, "She said something about how guys need reassurance in relationships even if they're playing tough, and that, because of James, I needed to make it up to you. I asked why and she sort of sighed and something about how you were jealous," Bones tells him, shrugging as she continues, "I told her that you being jealous would be irrational and illogical, as well as unfounded. However she gave me that look and I decided that since she's more connected to emotions than I am, I would follow her advice," she finishes and sticks the loaded chopsticks into her mouth.

He chuckles from his spot lying on the blanket.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's...nothing," he tells her, shaking his head. Now he knows she's slightly hurt and he moves over just a little until he can sit up a little bit, resting himself one arm, and he says with a smile slipping onto his face, "Angela was definitely right. I was jealous of the good doctor."

She (of course) opens her mouth and he efficiently silences it with his own.

He really has missed this feeling, the butterflies he gets when he's around her, when they touch. It's obvious that maybe her human side's realizing something because the kiss deepens and he finds himself on his back, her hands in his hair, his on her waist.

He flips them over and somehow manages to pull away, a hair's width, his breathe shallow on her neck, her pulse racing under his mouth.

"Bet the doctor never cause that, did he?" he asks, and when her eyes meet his, he sees them smiling.

"Not even close," she tells him before tugging on his shirt and bringing his taste back to her lips.

And he thinks, a clear thought in his world of haze, how beautiful jealousy can really be.


End file.
